its been
moments since I thought about you
in any capacity
minutes since
I remembered some portion of our story
hours since I felt anger
days since I tried to pick up my phone
weeks since I last contacted you
months since we last touched.

its been

months since you crushed me
weeks since I put on the brave face
days since I longed for you
hours since I spoke of you
minutes of starring into a blank screen
silently pleading
moments before all this is behind me again.

It’ll be

Moments of weakness
when I think about “us”
Minutes of silent cursing
while you run through my mind
Hours of rationalizing
before I let it go
Days of depression

I know

Weeks of emotions crammed into a few minutes
Months of self doubt and insanity

Soon it’ll be

years

But I’ll always have


the



tears.

A singular repetitive rhythm,
Pacing itself through peaks and valleys.

Moving constantly and patiently.
Not changing itself but naturally our senses develop it into song.

We perceive additional beats from the echoes,
Add harmonies from the worlds other lives that surround it.

Making valleys horribly deep dark places
from the fullness of the sound.
Peaks so light and airy
because nothing is there to answer you but the distance.

So why is our perception not inverse?

When we are surrounded by the echoes of ourselves
The world is coming down around us.
When we peak and nothing is there to answer,
There is freedom.

Is our nature to be so afraid of ourselves
That we simply do not comprehend what is inside?

No matter the beat continues
The pacing flows into each day
The world enjoys what it is because it will be honest.

The world knows no perception

The best mistake I ever made
Was opening that tattered black book

There I sat in a pub
On a mission to forget the world

6 or 7 drinks in
and a bartender all to happy
To pour what ever the roulette produced

thumb, thumb, flip
flip flip

Stop

Category is shots

To the new friend next to me
"why yes, I am to get **** faced"

"oh, you came here for just an occasion"
"well dear sir if you are brave enough next ones on me"

"Hot ****!" he exclaimed

As I close my eyes and say a silent prayer

I slowly count 4 pages
and place my finger on the page

I call Gwendolyn over and request
With eyes closed the item of my demise

"***!"
She cried

"I love ya but I won't do that to you"

I slurily open my eyes and focus

MEXICAN BLACK JACK

1 part tequila
2 parts whiskey
151 floater

"Double Shot"

I think out loud

whats a lil' ta'****-ya?

vhiskey? bah.

151 it's just a floater ppppssssshhhhhhh

After a few minutes of convincing
With many a hoot and holler
From my new friends

She takes my keys and reluctantly agrees
Even kindly offers me a chaser and some limes

I will not forsake the liquor gods

Ever get a whiff of turpentine and diesel?
Well that could be gardenias compared to this.

I sit in silence sniffing it
eyes closed lapping at it with my nostrils

I look over at my new buddy
"well chuckles it's now or never ready for this lil' endeavor?"

"Well ****" he muttered "I'm a man of my word"

"to life" I exclaimed

head back as that little bit of ******
started it's course
over my tongue into the throat
(why are my sinus' burning?)
don't breath boy
(you know better)
don't
you

eyes pop
and just on cue
flame ever rendering flames

I'm not blind
I'm not blind
I'm not blind

ok I was just squinting
really hard

I look over and my new friend
is now drinking my free chaser.

my game my pain...

Hey Sven leh's go again...

It's a good thing she loves me
I complain to no one

if she hated me I don't think I'd drink here.

2
hours and
4
shots later

I needed a nap good thing the loo was warm

I salute you Sir BlackJack and when I call your name
It's never in vain

Passions I have a few
Questions I have many
Perceptions are in a constant flux

Emotions go on with out control
The heart space fluctuates
Physical motions do not reflect the interior

Goals I have no use for
Intentions change with the wind

All things I hold
All I that I have brought
Have fallen to the wayside

Persecution does nothing for me
No matter how I perceive my concept of growth
Someone finds a logical objection

**** your logic
I will not be swayed
Leave me to my

To this misconception

The Jester to the court
A simple fool
A man to bring about life

Bring about the Dreary
Bring about the Light
Bring about stories of Joy & Strife

Dance amongst
Wax philosophical for
Play about the Concepts
Reorganize the Notions Preconceived and Not

Bring about the Esoteric
Bring about only the Palpable
Bring about plays of Obscure Lucidity

So alone who is he
When at home does he see
What does a merry walk become
Questions, “Who begins to portray me?”

Bring about Divinity
Bring about Sin City
Bring down to Existence and Humility

A Jester will never need a court
Will never have courtesans
He only needs to compliment their world
Must succeed in augmenting their reality through his own

the age old adage rings loud

1 tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila
FLOOR!

I look around and I see some simple *******
some lying in their own filth

when will you learn
it is sip not slam

god forbid you order training wheels
next one with lime and salt
better be eating crisps not drinking

bartender pour me the long glass
let me savor a whiskey back


i've got drinking to do
tequila for me and everyone standing

i plan on looking at my liver in the face tomorrow.

bring me the bottles
because if you didn't know
joe crow and jameson are long lost cousins

and play something loud
lets see if this liquid gold makes them dance.

:D

tired of

Looking into mirrors & realizing
Death occurred long ago
Knowing that what happens
Is never my will
But theirs
See me fall down
Crush my spirit
Like I did those hands
Bind me
To the weight of my penance
Set that stone afloat
For my sins weigh heavy.

tired of

Understanding & acceptance
Tired of silent words & absolution
Wisdom and caring
Joy & happiness
If only because
These are the things
I never understood how to create

god I am tired of…

Tired of being complacent
The anxiety from looking
The thoughts of being
Trying to be cool
Acting like all is good
My life
Here I f*ing stand

tired of

Being the good one
Earning for anyone but me
Being their rock
Supporting every ones world
But mine
Codependency and hating myself for it.

white walls,
solid empty,
begging to be a canvas.
silent,
ominous,
echoing and reverberating
with the slowly dropping pins of my mind.

lights out,
i call and everything shifts to overdrive.
my pulse is through the roof,
the beating has moved to my ears
as if to drown out the silence.

i'm wondering when the panic stops.

i'm searching for any thing
that bears resemblance to that which is dreamt.
dreams so often confused,
misconstrued,
bent at will to provide us with the most pleasing ideas.
time will only pass,
its up to me,
to us,
to usher them
and

it

is

still

so



EMPTY

You are

*******
Brilliant
Con man
Devoted
Enigmatic
Father
Gregarious
Healer
Indignant
Jovial
K­artikeya
Liar
Machiavellian
Narcissist
Ogre
Provider
Quaint
Resil­ient
Sage
Thief
Ubiquitous
Vagrant
Wanted
Xylene
Yawl
Zestful

All these things are only a small representation of that which you were.

To be honest

These are
only the things
That I recall
You being to me
Being for me

I refuse to Sanctify you
I refuse to Demonize you

You Sir

Gone so many days
Missed for so long
Moons have passed

Pleasures which I
I prayed you observed

Millions of events large and small
have come and gone since that day

Most of which
are insignificant

Many of which
will never be complete with out you having been there

You are gone
these things are what you were

you are still alive in me
so they are things that you are

and I have to accept that I am.

It has been 9 years and counting...

r.i.p.
Pops

Brillo en luz de dia

Color Canela
Como la tierra donde trabajo
Casi Morado
Al hora de comer

Rojo como las Rosas
Que ofrecen sus oraciones
Al mundo cada manana
El color de mi vida
Cual regreso a la Tierra

Verde la Ignorancia de mis Creaturas
En tiempo
Ellos sacificaran de sus propios modos
No sera como yo
Pero lo haran

Azul el color del Sangre en este mundo
Igual el Ojo del Universo
Que nos observa

Café es mi piel
Por la luz de la Luna
***** mis Ojos y Pelo
Como el Obscuridad del Cielo

Blanca el Alma del Universo
Como las Gardenias
Con sus Oraciones de noche

Provecho Mundo

Toma de mi
Como tomo de ti

Y en tiempo
A ti
Me entregare

The throbbing is almost blinding
I’m up In pain starving & alone
It’s not the pain
I can even be happy alone
(some days)
It is the starving
Not for food

Not

Well not for just anything
Today would have
Would have been

Been
No
Is

Is 1 of those days
Where I’m starving
Because of you
Yes
You

It’s just the ideal
I tell myself
The easy
Oh so easy thing
Because of what I did
I do
Do to myself some nights

Thank someone
Anyone

Because it isn’t
Isn’t ever going to be
Fire knives guns & drugs
Any more
Try as I might
I am going to be
A statistic

Some place
They will have My box
And I will just
Check in

Just not like today
Not one of these days

When I’m starving
For you

When the gaunt look
Is rooted on my face

When my decisions
Have been poor

(“aren’t they all” you gently chime in my mind)

I prefer the old way
A lil’ salve & the
The fire knives & guns
Disappear


Ominously



Obviously





It is one of those 
   Days

This is a clear line of action and being for me.
As is natural in our society it is open for interpretation.
Open to our own cruel
and malicious terms to justify our wants
and desires behind the veil of this idea
because we have done the respectful thing
we disregard other peoples states.
State of mind,
their presence upon our estates,
or do we feel justified out of our own short sighted goals.
These visions
that will makes us lose
that which surrounds us for the ideals we crave.

"Et tu Brute"

I should be transcribing the story of my life.

Making you laugh at my silliness.
Having you consider
the reality of it all by relating to just you.

Telling that tired anecdote
that's too witty to give up,
but now is a sad catch phrase.

Having a bonding moment
with you over something I probably faked.
I need you to feel not just know
about my trials or tribulations.

I want to have an endearing trait.
I want to know that my noctivagant ways
won't turn you against me.

I'm a traitor, a fool
a sly emotional chameleon.
I am driven by fear,
gears spinning all of me pushing.

Pushing into a deep dark mental ravine.

I am everything you deem wrong
wrong for your world and perception.
No thinking just scheming
what feeling, just planning.

but here it is with masks off
with sound at full bore
images vividly provided
all you can do is consider

why am I
baring this for you...

I stuttered I stared
I touched something,
Something for which I thought I no longer cared

In the midst of oo’s and awes
In the lines drawn
I drew myself outside the frame

So did I lose it?
Am I reckless?
Do I wantonly pursue it?

Is the door closed or has it just been modified
Was I right the whole time?
Could I be wrong now?

To quote myself
I dig, I dig on the hidden her
Stunned by the private truth
The honest portrayal of self I saw
That thing I touched when I was invited in
I went but I only toed the water
Should I have dove into the deep

I stuttered I stared
You touched in me something
Something for which I no longer cared

In the midst of panic and fear
With a gauntlet drawn
I pushed and broke away

I may have lost it
Reckless in my thoughts and actions
Would you still use it?

My closed doors now open
You were right the whole time
I want what I think to be wrong now.

I stutter I stare…

arbitrary
beyond
conception

development
eruditely
functional

go­verning
honing
instilling
justifications

kaleidoscopic
laelia
ma­nifestations
negating
oafish
palpebrations

queries
reflect
summa­tions
trouncing
ubiquitous
vagrancies
within

xenophobic
yoked
ze­itgeists.

Peace brought to the wrangling edge of my own being
I look and I find I search and I am lost

Keeper of secrets
So many evil ***** things lie in the recesses of my mind

I have forgotten more evil than most people truly consider
I have looked deep in myself
to see the wandering lust
that drives a community of mad
Yet mad
individuals

Women and men
who have found solace
in the darkest part of me

I take them all in
I care for the ideals they set forth
Yet they are lost
into the echoed chambers
of my mind

Each time I grow

Each time the line falls away

I see you all again
wandering deep inside there

Seeing some of you wandering
makes me consider
if what you spoke
was ever true to you

this is the lean season
where the weight of the world
is my weight

when I begin to have grand delusions
where I picture atlas

and think….

he and I are kin
quiet kin
begotten of Sisyphus…

ha! Leave no stone unturned
upon the landscape
from which you feed

each stone is mine
in this Sisyphus-ian dream
none to small
none to great
all things compared
I will wear this stone and road smooth
before too long

Each thing in its place and time
And to each place some time

I correlate the strain
that is blinding me

Looking for a cause in the universe
A common event

that brings down
the true space

That simple cell
that would surprise everyone.

I was given this exterior for many reasons
None I ever consider

I look upon it’s hues and textures
and consider many an item.

Cara de nopal

hecho de piedra y hierro


Lomo de Pipila



Con alma

esta alma

tan




Perdida

Drawing a blank page
Upon polluted canvases
Clearing imperfections
Working systems amongst visual noise
Looking for purity seeking sanctity
Just an example some simple image

Search the path for stories
Of glorious failures
The course is litterred with people
who succeeded beyond our capabilities.

Has de beber

Totalmente este situacion
Complentamente en los sentidos de tus antepasados

Has de creer

Totalmete en el poder del ser
Solamente en un gran pasion

Has de saboriar

Totalmente los rayos del sol y la luna
Unicamente en los brillantes rayos de la alma

Has de cantar

Brevemente de los llantos
Frequentemente con tus amantes

Has de bailar

Rapidamente como los ojos del joventud
Lentamente como el sabiduria de los antiguos

Has de ser

Puramente un amalgacion
Tranquilamente tu propio verdad

Has de tocar

Suavemente al mundo que has alimentado
Firmemente al mundo que te acose

Has de saber

Hoy siempre se terminara
Y manana tienes la gracia de comenzar

Has de entender

No es el mundo que te trata de danar
Que el miedo nos dana mas que nos protégé

Has de amar

Sin ser egoista
Sin ser imbecile

Has de…

New town if just for 26 hours
Hotel boxes
Window door tube bed
None for me
Walk it off

I am alone now not dead

The air is brisk
The sky clear
Inviting wanting
Pacing slow steady
Keep moving fear is behind me

I am alone now not dead

The A.O.J. , D.O.C. , C.D.C. ,
Look at the bulls
Watch the lawyers
Observe bondsmen pandering
Short steps take time
I’ve been them all

I am alone now not dead

The crooks the thieves
Crying mothers worried families
The poor the addicted the transient
Angst fear anger disappointment
Have no color creed affiliation
But their taste is forever in me
Slower still now each step is for
For you your loved one your painjoyfearhope

I am alone now not dead

At the capitol the peach blossoms
They drift down to me
Only the destitute and I
Stop to appreciate the beauty
Of the blossoms against the architecture
He then picks his bed for the night
Pace dieing growing weary
I hear a crow call

Walk on… you are alone now not dead

I keep a new pace
Steady watching wanting
A distant familiar sound
I begin to rush
Pull back I tell my self
No reason to hurry

I am alone now not dead

The closer I get
The louder it grows
Around and within me
Resonating stirring a deep seated past
A lone man in bad light
The stark display
Playing a schizophrenic
Jazz trumpet rendition of
The star spangled banner
I stop & sit
Invited into a new world
Time drifts
Like the peach blossoms
As towering sounds escape
The garage he projects into
He may be something special
He may be a ghost to the world
But here now as he plays
He is King
Even as people go by
Without ever taking heed
I clap and walk away
Shaken
In a new world as I go

I am alone now not dead

I have been counting paces
As diligently as I count days
1,433 steps
From the emptiness in the room
A fortnight
From the day I craved your touch
Peace is a road not a location
The path is here for me
So I walk with out fear
I know every day gets better
I’m still here
I am

I am alone now not dead.

I kissed you goodbye
I let you go

I never wanted to see this
I gave it to you

I couldn’t change the course
The choice was give you life or let you die

Either way you took part of me with you
No salvation without sacrifice

Had you of died I would have followed
The life I found for you I cannot be part of

The fact that you want me there hurts far more
These facts you deny

Kiss me and let me go
Hold me and understand why it is so

Looking deeply into pieces of what I was.
Perusing the mosaic of images
That linger in my eyes.
Shards of all shapes an sizes

Moments holding steadfast
So vivid, rich and rank.

This is no wading pool
The depth is great
And the capacity is only fathomed.

It all pulses, sparks, chokes and spits.

There is no hemorrhage
This is all fine
Make assertions
Pound them deep into reality.

Each strike resounds
Like a blacksmith in a cave
Molding shifting
Creation.

Flames that had once receded
Deep into the pit of a forgotten temple.
Stoked sudden & silently by a mere shift of its outer mask
Breathing new life/light
into hallowed grounds.

I saw the situation
I can read the look better than most
I sense beyond the obvious

You need attention
You need the affirmation

The structure is built the mortar appears firm.
Yet the simplest action
Removes whatever you consider stable
Shatters the foundation.

I wont strike it
is cowardice

It is the belief
That commitment to quality will be rewarded.

it is thinking believing
that once i repair
that which is wholly incorrect broken and in need of repair ...

Belief that in your fiefdom the world is sensible

Should I know that of the fairer *** ?

That I will be attracted to
That which I perceive and see

Yet ultimately will never correlate.

I crave
I yearn to touch
That which I build
Honestly all things begotten of my mind.

Yet so slowly
I must come to the understanding

I look too deeply

Watching
observing
like social outcasts
typical and yet atypical
according to demographics.
Craving ideas concepts facts
that will/do separate us from the herd.

Lost notions of sense
seeking portrayals, refurbishing old ideals
Warping every ounce of self
simply to emulate
some long forgotten concept
which no one will ever truly understand.

The brunt of a joke yes,
The stoic face that removes you from a content moment always.

We see
We accept
Most never understanding
Reading lines casting lies
doing our selves the only justice
Of keeping "them" content

I am not social with you all
I was never to be
I can accept that
I would even claim to understand

I care for,
for some small sake
Yet
"who's?"
is the only question to astound me.
Not the for who or the good golly whys
That are blathered from the lips
of every would be philoso-phile.
More so the
"who is?"
Because in reality so many of us are not

NOT
Stopping to smell the flowers
(for the truth of its meaning)
Breathing
Feeling
Seeing
Listening
Coaching
Questioning
Learning
(or ever truly)
Knowing.
Not even i.
i won't even fathom what it is to be.
Simply out of
Respect,
Awe,
Wonder.

Do we touch sanctity
or does it only grace us with their presence?
If so does
he/she/they/it
have a name?
Could our gift remain solely
in our ability for recognition?

i Question myself in efforts
To obtain procure peruse
not in doubt.
Doubt is a by product of fear.
I shall not fear
Will you
Do they
As hard as we make it

It will forever be ourselves.

Pick axe in hand
The ground laid out before me

There is no
”X”

Just a solid exterior that is beginning to erode
Some where below is the prize

I pick among visible lines
The obvious
Start where it is already coming undone

Grinding the dust into my hands
The smooth grain worn into a natural grip

A focused vision comes into view
Marking the ground with my sight

Lifting and straining against the weight of my tools
I have not yet begun
I feel myself dispersing into the ground below me

Patch verified axe rising like the new sun
Then quickly drawn down upon the soil

Solid even in the fissures
The vibration resonating
Pushing back at me

Swing Man! Swing!
Bring on the ultra violence

soon

Standing on a barren plane
Soft winds lapping at the gently rising dust
As small shards find new places to rest

Progress is slow & shallow

Stopping regularly
To clean and prime the site

This ritual promoting
Images and feelings of being prostrated

Before some long forgotten deity

Many hours gone progress is measured
I have not gotten far

This will be weeks
Not days or hours

I stop to consider the plan
Too late ultimately
I started here

No rhyme or reason why

Just here
This is the scar upon my psyche
That will give way

I say.

i- insecurity is an odd coat to wear.

it- we all wear some type of it...

i- i raise an eyebrow to that statement and take pause at its implications.
if only to acknowledge that the time and place for that is alone in the closet at 430 am.

Taken in motion

That split instance where
It is all read

Every nuance

Nothing is alive

Not a shell

Not a game

Not a

Just
Just for

For you
For me

The simple idea
The misconception

A notion

That I stole your soul

If it is here

In this picture

It will be safe for it is

Quietly

For it will be

Always

Deeply

Cherished.

I know you are gone but in this photo

We

Really truly

are

We know what it is to be
Be a producer
A nurturer create in dirt
Being from the place we create
The people who slaved
The people who consume
Infinitely those who profit
We have been
The slave
The owner
The profiteer
Our luxuries have been
The sun
Dirt
Air
Satisfaction
Power over life
Death or growth
Mining and stripping
Tearing down and barreling
Towards an infinite goal
I give back to you from whom I take

Softly I sob praying it isn’t too late

In peace I go
Not to some good night
But to some hell
Where I feel upon my being
That which I have done

To the ground I give my body
To the sky I give my soul
May what is left be
Let it be

Let it be used
Used to foster life
From what I took

Magna Dea

I return what was never mine
Do what you will
In hopes that self sacrifice does
What I never could.

we are gonna paint
Not an ideal
Nothing perfect

Just sort of soft focus
A hazey image

Not a monet
Something for you and I

muted soft tones
Like an oil pastel

This image inexplicably
This thought incomplete

No models
just influences

Colors or not
This blind eye waits

Still

I’m going to cry
  Even though I am happy for you
It will rip me apart
  I will still smile when you talk about it
As I lay on the floor broken in every form
  You’ll see me shake hands and wear that face
I will stare at the void in my being
  I will offer you the best advice
Time will pass my heart will still be asunder
  I’ll stand there and be joyful
I’ll listen with broken notions and crushing pain
  Yes we’ll still be friends
I’ll give you up
  You’ll hunt me down
Nothing will matter to you
  You will only see what you want
Soon it will only be
  You will never understand
I will forever be
  Then it will all be over.
Never again I’ll say
  Cry you will
Console I must
  Once it is gone
I will be here
  Soon you’ll be gone again
I will fade
  The end will be someday
Until then,

Until then

Spinning falling slow concentric circles
being made as the bits of me fall away
pushing myself down deep,
deeply further into some unknown location
that just feels as horrible as it should.

Land, land, land **** it land

Quicker now vision being marred
just because I am straining
to see the things I am destroying
slow visuals of these concentric circles
losing their own shape and drifting off
into places I should have been
inevitably parts of me were there
but I never have been.

Land, land, land **** it land

Deeper still the descent
is no where near its crescendo
there is no land
there is no place for me to land
there is no me in this place
so where does this lead too..
some crazed rabbit hole
I have pushed myself into

This is everyday
This is my reality
It is every morning
Every morning in this place
It’s alone it is cold it’s real
Everyday I need one thing
One thing to get me through

Not a “you” but really a “me”
Some glorified vision
Some place between
This slow charging death
Everyday is a bit lower
Some how, every day is a bit brighter.

Everything is tunnel vision

10 to 5am.
Quiet time my time,
the world is asleep an my minds racing.
Sun will soon be rising in my eyes. 

Ghosts are every where like shadows at the edge of my vision.

I can't stay still here everything calls to me.

Every sound,
image and thought
breaking down pieces of myself.

They are all here
all my ghosts, skeletons, tresspasses
all like fallen soldiers waiting for a final word,
a tender moment to bid a true goodbye.

I don't want them to go
do I?

I won't handle the solitude,
the vacuum of my own existence.

Smile,
nod,
shake,
move,
jump,
scream,
fall to pieces,
find a template and run.

Run for life,
for sanity,
for health,
pleasure pain commitment.

None match,
none convey,
my why,
the truth that it is
and will be irrelevent.

my parading is for naught.

But this is for me not them,

no concepts just existence

i loved

no really i truly did







Once.

in that place there was static

static that made me indiscernible from the shadows.



you are no more
we are long past

i wish there was a grave
i would bring you to it

no one would lie in it

i wouldn’t have that grave mired

with

what

we

were/are

it would remain pristine unlike us.





some day it would be filled

then i would let you see me cry

and you would still have no clue.

You stroll in calmly
The quietest person
Yet the loudest personality

You sit expectations high
no preconceptions
Palms heated
sweating into your thigh

Watch an older man take stage
No song
no dance

Flowing words
Falling down on def ears
Half tuned people
preoccupied with their today's

He bares his soul
Not one
glance

Tells you of dreams
They sing more like memories

Puts his heart on a platter
The soft clicks of keys are his applause

And I don't wish to become that poet.

An older gentleman now
looking some what feeble

He begins to read
what may be..

He is quieter now
Unless the cacophony of
latteskeystrokesjangelingkeyschange&jowls;

Is rising above
Above the man he wanted to be.

He still reads

Sounds are disappearing now
As does his voice
He strained to be heard
amongst the din

Now he is shrinking further into himself

And this is the poet I do not want to become.

Round two (cue gentleman #1)

He begins-

Not with a poem but a diatribe

I see him abuse the society it has become
His knowledge is visible
If only on the jagged ****** lines

I'm keen on his disposition
Almost applauding for him when he states

We come to this nouveau coffee house
Only to sit alone together.
Drop your wifi lose your phone
Learn to be human again inside.

Subtly heads appear from buried positions
Whispering with quiet indignation.

Just then he snaps to

Comes back full circle

Only to read something by Thoreau.

An inaudible applause grates across the room

cue the second man once again....

mutter mutter
concluded with dull thunder

"Would any one else like to share?"

"oh no's"
"Oh me oh my's"
"How could I's"

therefore it ends..
we will see you all again the Fourth Sunday of the month.

I came to find out if there was a scene
a movement a shared idea
I don't care too much sell me an ideal.

I landed in a poets grave.

They are still fighting
They will keep writing

Burning to be heard
just wanting to share
what they have learned
needing to expose others to passions

this is a poets grave

On a Sunday in the afternoon
In a college town
Dreaming of becoming metropolitan

where chic once lived and again they will
where people once spoke to one another
yet no longer bother to exchange basic courtesy

it was once magical
maybe it still is
if only because it has now become lore

my hats tipped towards you
Sunday pm poets

you are still stronger than I

oh how dreams don't come true
you sighed deeply into the night

looking at me like some sort of resolution had arrived
i was not there to wash away the life you had known
i chose to make life better for each of us

that was not going to happen

my life plan was to live
your life plan was already in shambles

there was no blue print
no scale model
just ideals

long dreamt ideals of who i should have been for you
you said i lied to you
that you were disillusioned with the idea of who i was

am i Copperfield?
there were no smoke or mirrors
only your addiction and vanity

Houdini?
i never tried to escape
into the countless bottles that accumulated

Blackstone?
i only tried to put you back together
every day after you tried to tear yourself and us apart

the magic was all around us and some days you even saw it
most nights you cut right through it

if i was your illusion
then you became the analogy

you might be my 1 great love
but you will never be a mistake

nothing hurt more than the words in your eyes

you said you became poison
was i the catalyst to that transformation

there is talk of mole hills now

then you spoke of our dreams

i even made the purchase
you finally broke me

there you were
moving brightly down civilized lane
basking in the glow of someones technicolor dream
was it even yours?

you finally sold it to me and here i sit
thinking of all those dreams

i
never
dreamt

missing things only you could have fed me


i have a mirror now
and i find myself looking

you tried to fill the ever growing void deep in me

i failed you

because the only things that kept me going
were the things you hated most

i feel the void and i feed the void
but it is sated because it is me
not something coerced into belief
neither is it a curse to which i was bequeathed

the void was here before you
the void will live beyond me
i will live before it takes me
  
yet as i go about those days
etched on the back of hand
will be the broken vision
of that life plan

Dutifully watching willows sway
Birds are lounging just beneath the overhang
Rain is gently pouring down the window pane
I sit hear raggedly alternating my vision
From you to it
It to you.

I don't know if you are conscious
I really hope you can hear me.
I stopped using words days ago
I plead to you from my soul.

Countless days and fruitless nights
I spent in chairs, couches and cold floors.
Fluorescent lights beaming down
Numbing every emotion as time slowly passes.

I look and wait
speak to others
hoping you will just chime in
Jealous that my attention was diverted.

No sound just shallow movements of your chest.
Time here is mounting deep within me
patience giving way to rage

I took deep calculations once

before I was 18

1/3 of my life was spent hospitals.

I wish


I would


have



been




the





patient






instead of learning about patience.

So be it

A standing laying flying
Portrayal of the world

A prayer unto celluloid

Don’t blink act right
Every body ready look bright

Committing in yesteryear’s fashion

Laced in binary
Every bit of new life

Promising to tomorrow

Etch me into the cave walls
2d in faded glory

So be it

The face the place
The time in our prime

Take this time forever

It is just primer for the soul
And only fodder for those to come

No matter what we will liver forever

If only in that moment.

Pen to paper
My old friend

Advances in script
Either show I’ve grown
Or merely become decrepit
Since I last drew
Upon this time honored medium.

A lazy penchant is this

My old habit to write
Selfishly just for me

Some scrawl indiscernible
To any ones eye but my own.

Some how I feel
In some place it stirs
Hoping for a visage P
raying for an avatar
Begging for a symbol.

Something that marks
An item to burn
To scar the earth

In its joyous existence
An acceptance.

For this it searches
Some legacy in the world
For that place
It doesn’t inhabit

Yes, it cohabitates
Truth will be known
To those with unclouded eyes.

I have to thank you

I see who I have been
I understand what I was
I look to where I am going

I have to thank you

I feel the pallor of the existence I led
I touch the shell I once inhabited

I have to thank you

I hold no hate
I do breathe anger
I concede to the pain
I pray it is mine alone

I have to thank you

Without this decimated phase
I wouldn’t have pushed through
Without the values earned in losing us
I would never believed in myself like I do now

I have to thank you

You understood what it took for me to flourish
You hated me for it
You craved me for it

I have to thank you

The chess matches I create are false
I always wanted to accept you
I always wanted to be your exception
(if only because you were mine)

I have to thank you

I may never tell you
I may never even lead you on to this
I probably won’t ever give you the respect you are due

I have to thank you

I have to thank you for
For all the things we destroyed even ourselves
We are the difference between knowing and being
We are the people who will forever be….

I have to thank you

I have new existence
I have new purpose
Though I may wane and my ideas shift
Like the sands I asked you to see beauty in
Even if some days I grow despondent
Like the answers you gave me on those days

I have to thank you

Good luck………..

Each day I have a reason to celebrate.
Each moment that I sit
basking in the cacophony of my minds
constant obsession is a reason to be happy.
I didn’t know I could think or feel anymore.

Not till the day you

Well not till that night.

I told you simply before
that I would respect you.
If only because you have to give
to receive I know that.

Slowly I learned
it is only what you expected
and never really cared for.

I didn’t seem to be cared for.

Not how I wanted
usually not like I ever really needed.

The old song says
I fought the law and the law won.
I fought myself and days
days get darker all the time.  

Not darker like it was
there is a new dawn in my life
there will be more sunshine,
the clouds seem to have past
but the void between me and the sky is so ominous.

It’s amazing what you feel
when you are allowing yourself to.
I must have been insane
to think of pleasing only one person
mostly because that person wasn’t me.

No fingers pointing
I know you gave it a go.

You made all the marching orders
that seemed right at the time.

Blame cannot be assigned
unless you count
change
the one true,
inevitable force in the world.

Change is going to mean many things in is this wonderful little play.  

You won’t change for anyone

and I am tired

Tired of changing for you.

So as we grow with this

What was once a decent way to express outselves

is now and solely a race

a race to comment

a race to post

any and everything

not that I bash or am less impressed with what I find here

It is more so a challenge

a challenge for me

to write faster

to create more only to be rewarded with something

that was

was that

some little evidence

this is good ideas with difficult execution...

I hope I continue...